


all i've ever known is how to hold my own

by Viliandre



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: But also, F/F, Gen, Modern AU, Pre-Relationship, hints of uni and coffeeshop au, performance is important, so we die, tagging is difficult as always
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:40:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28471773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Viliandre/pseuds/Viliandre
Summary: summaries are also hardedelgard goes to a performance dorothea is part of because ferdinand invited herand then helps her find her cat a few weeks later
Relationships: Dorothea Arnault & Edelgard von Hresvelg, Dorothea Arnault/Edelgard von Hresvelg
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	all i've ever known is how to hold my own

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tanjetea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tanjetea/gifts).



> for riley!! from a certain server's secret satan  
> i don't know your accounts on other things so your name it is-- [edit: commented so now its more accessible]
> 
> hope you like this since i saw fluffy gay things and goofy au and also liking dorothea and edelgard and linhardt specifically and my brain went
> 
> dorothea/edelgard perhaps?? i made an attempt,,, hopefully they aren't too ooc
> 
> titles are hard and i was listening to hadestown

Edelgard slips through the doors of the theatre, seat number ticket stub clutched in her hand. Ferdinand had told her about the performance today and she'd sworn that she'd come, willing to support him in this. She pushes through the people still standing and finds her seat with minimal fuss - no one had already seated themselves in her row, so she hadn't needed to ask for them to shift so she could get through.

She'd gotten a good seat, partially thanks to Ferdinand, centered on the stage and far enough back that she didn't have to crane her neck to be able to look at the entire stage like if she was in the front or so far back that she'd have to focus to be able to see more than impressions of the acts on the stage.

She settles into her seat, grimacing slightly at the uncomfortable press of the edges into her limbs, taking a moment to smooth the wrinkles from her skirt and ease her heels out of her shoes. She isn't so crass as to prop her feet up on the seat in front of her, but there wasn't any reason for her to continue wearing the shoes fully when she has no intention of moving until the show is over.

There's a few minutes where nothing really happens; soft sounds of footfall behind the curtain barely noticeable even to those in the front row, more people filing into their seats and chatting forgetting volume, a few calling out to others they see and know as they wait for the lights to dim and the show to begin.

When the lights begin to dim, all chatter dies down, the few people still talking getting hushed by their neighbors and others in the audience, several people leaning forward in their seats as if that would make the curtain rise faster.

The stage is still dark as the curtain draws away, the stage lights not yet illuminating the figures fuzzily visible against the plain backdrop and dark scuffed stage floor.

Slowly the stage lights turn on, warm lights shining soft warm colors down onto the stage instead of the harsh yellow that usual lights may provide. With the light, a woman with long dark brown hair is visible, light catching on her dangling earrings and necklace, red dress vibrant like her nails and lips, hands wrapped around a standing mic. She's almost glowing in the light, head bowed slightly to the floor, long hair falling in gentle waves around her neck and shoulders.

It's hard to tell if her eyes are shut with the angle and how far away she is, but the smile on her red painted lips is clear, red painted nails tapping the stand.

Behind her, on the left looking at the stage, a man sits in front of a piano, in a twilight colored suit with a bright red rose in the breast pocket, gloved hands poised over the keys. Almost against the backdrop are two women, one with a standing bass and the other with a violin. The woman at the bass has her pink hair pulled up into a styled ponytail, while the woman with the violin has her blue hair braided into a gentle crown, each in dresses the color of their hair.

Off to the right of the singer, still half in the wings, a man in a red suit stands, a free mic held in his hands. His short red hair makes him immediately recognizable to her - Ferdinand, a childhood acquaintance, friend, due to living in the same neighborhood (as much as a gated community can be called a neighborhood anyway) and their families ran in the same circles, running into each other frequently at the fancy parties they were dragged to throughout their childhoods and into their teen years. He may still think of them as some sort of rivals, but they're friends, she thinks. Else, why would he invite her and why would she have come.

Now as young adults, it was luck perhaps, that made them end up attending the same university, but here they are allowed to choose their acquaintances in a way that they'd been denied as children, and they have friends outside of each other and the few others who grew up in that same gated community, or others like it.

The man on the piano looks familiar from another community that held functions with hers, now that she thinks of it, the women with strings also looking somewhat familiar.

The woman center stage is new to her though, only having seen her in passing since coming to the university. She lifts her head, looking into the audience with her vibrant green eyes, smile still on her red painted lips, and she begins to sing, voice cutting through the silence, warm and gentle and _strong_.

Time seems to slow, Edelgard captivated by the performance of the quintet, the way they follow around each other, following cues from the singer's voice, almost, if one watched the spaces between the sounds. Even without moving, it seems like they dance across the stage, though Ferdinand and the singer do a soft waltz across the floor at one point, voices still raised in song, the pianist singing harmonies.

They're telling a story, in the way that their voices lilt and flow and the way they move, even just the falls of the singer's feet when she'd been standing at the standing mic, the importance felt in each small gesture she makes. Every changing smile and wink.

It's a love song, a performance calling back to home, comfort, safety, that which one wants to surround themselves by when they feel down, when they are able to be vulnerable. A song of a place where vulnerability is offered, and respected, and taken care of. Instead of exploited.

Edelgard isn't sure how long the performance actually lasts, blinking back to herself when the singing stops and the singer bows, spins and grabs the hands of the others, bows with them, and exits the stage.

Disappointment fills her, a want to see and hear the woman's voice again, and the songs that she makes with others. She blinks as others file onto the stage to begin their performance next, and she remembers that she'd been given a program when she entered. Hurriedly she pulls it out of her coat pocket and opens it, running a finger along the names of performers and pieces to see if any member of that quintet will perform again, finger pausing as she reads their names. Hilda Goneril and Marianne Edmund were familiar to her, so the singer must be...

Dorothea Arnault.

A lovely name, one that sounds familiar even as the woman's face hadn't been. Something to tuck away for a later time.

She keeps searching, looking to see if they'll perform again and - they are, they're closing the concert just like they'd started it. There would be several performances first, but she can wait, smiling softly as she closes the program and settles back into her seat, crossing her legs and refocusing her attention on the stage.

While she may have a particular focus now, the others put in a lot of effort as well and it would be rude to zone out during their performances or leave and return when it was once again time for Dorothea's quintet. And truly, while they don't captivate her as much as that first performance had, the following acts were all excellent in their own rights, genres flowing and changing as performers swap places on the stage, energy contained until the first notes of each piece ring out over the audience and break the silence of the space between performances.

Still, her smile grows when she sees that the next to perform is once again Dorothea's group, leaning forward in her seat, elbow placed on the armrest and head leaning against a hand in a way she knows would've gotten her scolded as a child. She can't find it in her to care.

It comes as a surprise when Dorothea takes her mic and starts to speak, rather than sing.

"Hi everyone, I hope you've enjoyed all the performances so far! We're almost done, but we wanted to say thanks for coming and sticking with us until now, especially those of you who came here for one performance in particular out of all the others. It means a lot to us when people stick around for the entire show instead of leaving after the group they came for is done. So thank you all very much, please enjoy this last song of the night, and we hope you'll come to the next concert as well." She gives a little two fingered salute, takes a step back, readjusts her grip on the mic, and when she opens her eyes - when had she closed them? - there's a different look in them, darker and more stubborn, somehow.

She snaps her fingers, and they begin, the soft sounds and light of their first performance nowhere to be seen in this almost brash performance. It's wilder, freer, and yet somehow it's also more subdued. It's a dance, even though this time they haven't danced at all, Dorothea and Ferdinand just standing, the others moving no more than needed to play their instruments. Their voices and instruments are dancing though, a back and forth, call and answer, chasing but never reaching. Somehow, it almost feels lonely.

Edelgard is transfixed, eyes on the stage and ears absorbing all the sound that reaches her even as it feels as though it surrounds and goes through her, nothing catching onto her, only the most tenuous of tendrils catching a hold for a moment, leaving behind feelings as the song continues to be played.

She feels dazed, when the song ends, the quintet smiling and bowing at the cheers from the audience, belated realizing that she too should clap for them.

She'll ask Ferdinand for a ticket to their next performance as well. Even if he doesn't believe her when he asks about her impressions, that should be enough to convince him that she did enjoy this.

-

A few weeks later Edelgard sighs, resting her head on her arms at the counter of the local coffeeshop, idling tracing the pattern of the woodgrain as she waits. It'd seemed like a good idea to come to Linhardt's work to get some tea as a break from her research, but the line had picked up after she'd ordered and Linhardt was close to nodding off again while taking orders, Caspar making the drinks and grabbing the treats loudly behind him, nudging his shoulder at almost every opportunity to make sure that he doesn't faceplant into the register.

She's always found it to be a good idea to have something to drink, tea in her case, usually bergamot or a blend from her home, unlike Hubert with his coffee or Lysithea with her sugar concoctions that satisfy the other girl's sweet tooth temporarily if nothing else, when she feels herself being drained and still needs to put in work, either for school or her own job. The little joy the warm drink gives helps bring her though the rest of the day, when she starts feeling as though everything would be better if she could just go home and curl up and sleep the rest of the day away, the way Linhardt suggests at times.

Sometimes it seems like he has a point, with all of his naps.

Maybe she should ask him to help her with some of her research next time? See if his boss would let them come to an agreement for him to miss part of a shift or see about doing a trade of some kind with him at their apartment so she could have his help at least... He's faster at it than she is, maybe because of the way he endeavors to get through most things with as little time spent as possible outside of things that truly fascinate him. The skimming and clever searches would help a lot even if nothing further than that... She'd want to go over anything more detailed than that if it looked like it could be relevant anyway.

Doctors can't always be counted on to give you all the relevant information, and even with her guiding him in the search, she's not sure that he'd pick up all the things she's really looking for.

She sits up, stretching and arching her back, looping a small section of her hair around a finger and looking at it before shaking it free and getting to her feet. "Linhardt, Caspar. My tea?"

Caspar swears, pulling a large cup off a stack and immediately starting the process, the bag of bergamot and the little flavor pump of lavender she sometimes likes to be added put in the cup before the scorching water - she'll need to remove the bag when she sits back down so it doesn't oversteep - but the cup is slid in front of her a moment later, a cozy already slid around the outside to protect her hands from the heat a little. "Sorry, guess I missed it. Here you go, Edelgard. Couldn't remember if you'd wanted lavender this time but having it and not ordering it is better than if I hadn't given it and you _had_ so-"

"Take care that you don't forget another order, but thanks. You have my gratitude." She hadn't asked for the lavender today, but his logic makes sense and that small kindness of adding it just in case felt almost enough to make up for the lateness this time. They wouldn't ask her to pay the difference after all. It wasn't usual and they _were_ rather busy, though she'd thought it'd picked up after she'd done her order, but perhaps they'd had orders come in online or over the phone and priorities shifted. She doesn't work here, but maybe it was something like that; people who ordered ahead of coming to the store tend to be less patient in her experience as a customer than people who walked in and ordered after waiting in the line.

That could be the case, looking at the carryout containers packed with drinks barely visible next to him on the low counters inside the center station the two men occupied.

She carefully takes a sip of her drink, wincing at her scorched tongue and going back to her seat slowly to prevent any spills, placing the cup on the counter before retaking her seat, settling a little before attempting to remove the lid of the cup. She's tried to do this while standing before and the cup never manages to stay still enough to prevent her fingers from getting scorched by water coming over the sides of the cup. Getting the tea was important in and of itself, but she'd rather not have it oversteep as she waits for it to be cool enough to drink in more than tiny sips at a time.

Maybe she should've asked for her tea for here instead of to go; they wouldn't have had to make it so hot then, but she'd also _need_ to finish it before leaving, instead of having the option of taking it with her should she decide that she didn't want to remain in the café.

While it was quiet most days, it was fairly large - bar counters along most of the outside walls below windows, a pair of public restrooms, and the center station where pastries and drinks were ordered, as well as drinks made. The pastries were made on the other side of the building, visible through plexiglass rather than hidden behind doors, someone almost always there working dough for more of the little tarts and things they sell, dough stretched by hand and by machines to be thin for flaky pastries and air pushed out for soft sweet breads. Staples of fresh berry tarts and danishes, giant cinnamon buns topped with cream cheese frosting, little caramel tarts with chocolate drizzled across the top in small careful lines, donuts with various fillings and toppings, slices of banana bread, pumpkin bread, zucchini bread, as well as plain bread and breads with cinnamon swirled into the dough before baking, savory bread with cheese baked on top or olives inside. Bagels too.

The center station where Linhardt and Caspar are is where all those things were displayed and drinks made, orders taken and picked up, the baristas gated inside to prevent accidents and others from wandering in, the various drink making machines and the oven for heating treats with them.

There were mats on the ground in and around the center station, to take strain off the baristas and customers when there were long lines and prevent slips from spills. The gray-white floor and off-white walls don't feel sterile here, the way they do in hospitals, the warmth from the food and drinks infusing the atmosphere, the music playing softly through speakers at the top of the walls enhancing it, as well as the one tv mounted high up with captions on and the sound off. It was a cozy space, as large and open as it was.

Several small tables with two to four chairs lay in the open spaces, a few arranged behind couches in front of an electric fireplace, a busing station next to the bathrooms and a few trashcans near clusters of tables.

She hums idly, gently blowing on her tea as she traces the wood grain of the counter once more. Ferdinand's group had gotten access to a small recording studio thanks to their skills and, likely, also their families connections, and she'd made a habit of obtaining their songs even though she could just ask Ferdinand for them. Another should be coming out soon, as well as another recording Dorothea had done without them, as part of a larger group of singers that she'd performed with before university.

At least, she thinks it'll be soon. The days had started to blend together as the due date of her project approaches, and back before she'd thrown herself into the project only taking breaks for sleep and food and the occasional pick-me-up drink that she's having at the moment. Unless the recordings had gotten delayed somehow, they'd originally been announced to be coming out around the due date.

She sighs, pushing herself to her feet, just barely jostling her drink, and brushing down her skirt, pulling at the knees of her leggings briefly as she turns back towards the center station.

Maybe a snack would help her focus her thoughts on her research, instead of whether or not she'd be able to get another new cd featuring Dorothea's voice sooner rather than later.

The line had died down again, but there were still a few people in front of her as she winds her way from her seat at a wall counter back to the center station, one of them catching her eye. It's not strange to wear a mask, especially since it's winter and colds are running rampant as usual on campus, but the mask wearing woman doesn't sound like she's sick. Maybe she doesn't want to get sick? Or maybe it's for another reason, like warmth or anonymity.

"Lin, is my order ready? I know it was busy when I sent it in but," the woman's shoulders heave in a big sigh-shrug, a hand reaching up to brush her brown hair away from her eyes. "You know how rehearsal's get before performances. Gotta get our little fuel, right?" She flicks a finger in a half-point at him, a smile clear in her voice.

Linhardt nods slowly, fingers gliding over the screen of the register. "You know, I don't see why you can't take a day and decide to nap when you'd have rehearsal. Wouldn't that be a good use of this time? Running solidly at things only burns you out." He half turns, reaching for the carry containers. "Another long day?"

"Oh, nothing longer than usual. And you know I'd _like_ to nap, but rehearsal is important. Practicing is how we make everything come together after all." The woman flutters her fingers in a wave at Caspar over Linhardt's shoulder before she grabs the containers, having paid while he'd talked. "Catch you both another time, k?" She turns on a heel, long dark hair swirling around her like her skirts, humming a cheery tune as she cradles the drinks and exits the shop.

Edelgard stares after her for a moment, forgetting to take a step toward the register until Caspar puts his hands on the counter to look over Lin's shoulder at her. "Hey, Earth to Edelgard! Didja want something else too?"

"Oh, that's right." She shakes her head, stepping forward and glancing in the direction the woman'd gone again. "Does she come here often?"

That. hadn't been what she'd been intending on asking. She flushes, face heating up to her ears as the two men blink at her.

"I mean, I'd like a berry tart. Please." _and please **don't** ask about what I just said...._ Perhaps that might be too much to ask from this pair; there was no stopping Linhardt when he was curious about something.

He just nods though, shrugging Caspar off to input the order and pointing a slender hand over to the case where Caspar could find the freshest ones. "Dorothea? She's here often enough. At least, someone from one of her groups, they tend to do big orders around this time. Why?"

Sometimes she's glad that he doesn't stick his head into her room in their apartment much, oblivious to just how much she's thought about the woman since that performance. She's thought so, from the mannerisms and the look of the woman, but hearing it confirmed makes her heart beat a little faster. Even just speaking, Dorothea Arnault's voice is nice. Nicer in person and up close, maybe, than on the recordings she has of her songs and that performance she'd been to. The Mittlefrank Opera's songs and that little quintet's. Not just Dorothea's.

"So....'Lin', huh?" She offers her card.

He shrugs, accepting the payment, quickly swiping and returning it. "She likes nicknames. We're friends, I think." Caspar slides the pastry on the counter next to him. "Well, you know where the utensils are, please make sure to put them in the proper receptacle when you're done. If the tart and tea don't help you focus, maybe you need to take a nap-"

"-or a walk!" Caspar cuts in, a fist against a hip. "Not everything can be solved by taking naps, Linhardt. But he is right, if this doesn't help then maybe you've gotta take a rest or get up and move around." He pumps a fist. "Get the energy out if you've got too much to focus on what you want."

Edelgard blinks at them, frozen for a moment, but her mouth curves into a small smile. "My thanks. I'll try that if this doesn't solve my problem."

Everyone's got different ways of trying to focus after all. She slides the pastry plate off the counter into her hand and places it next to her tea, walking across the shop to the utensils to grab a fork and knife - and napkins. Maybe some other day she'd just pick the treat up and takes bites out of it just like that, but not today.

She slides a notebook and pens out of her bag, setting them on the counter beside her refreshments and sighs again, flipping the notebook open to an empty page and taking a careful sip of her tea. Soon maybe she'll be able to drink it in more than just sips.

Could the heat sensitivity also be a part of this? But perhaps it's not. Neatly, she makes a note of "ask Lysithea about cat tongue",

She focuses for a little while longer, jotting down other things that she may want to take a look into about something or other, but before long her thoughts drift back to the other woman earlier. Dorothea... she frowns, fingers tapping on the page for a moment, sighing a moment later and pulling her headphones out of her bag. Maybe listening to her voice will help. Sometimes it has, even as sometimes it just serves to distract her more, wondering how she sounds when she isn't singing, or being recorded, when she's tired or happy and showing it with all of her the way she can't when she's on stage. Her authentic self.

It is surely another mask when she's performing, like the ones the people around her wear when they know her for her family instead of for her, the ways you protect yourself from the judgement and feelings of others. But there are those who see through those masks, even before the effort of lowering the mask has been made by the wearer.

She frowns, slipping the headphones on. Listening won't hurt; it may just prove that she does need to do something else earlier if it doesn't help immediately. She pulls her phone out of her pocket, starting the music and beginning to scrawl.

-

Dorothea hums a little song, one of the ones they'd already performed, fingers dancing across the hem of her skirt, swaying lightly with the phrases and refrains. The drinks she'd picked up from Lin and Caspar were resting on the table just inside the practice room, no longer in the carry container, a few half-drank already.

She extends a leg out to the side, sliding to the new position and stepping back, together, out again, turning in small circles around the room as she hums, hands floating up as if she had a partner leading her in the waltz.

One-two-three, one-two-three, one-two-three... She smiles, closing her eyes and putting words, a stronger voice, to the tune, almost aimlessly as she continues to glide around the room.

"Heh, what happened to taking a break, Dorothea?"

She rolls her eyes at the speaker, smiling as she keeps turning. "Who says that this can't be a break too? I got the drinks and already drank some of mine. What about you, Ferdie?" She stops turning, facing him and extending a hand towards him. "Are you done with yours?"

He sighs, running a hand through his short hair. "I suppose I can be for now. Something on your mind?"

"Just the performances. What did you think about when we'd danced last time? Wanna do it again too? We can ask the others what they think as well, I was just...thinking about it." She claps her hands, smiling widely. "It was fun, right?"

"Shouldn't we focus on perfecting what we've already decided on before adding more?" But he offers his hand for her to take, stepping close as she grabs it, into the space she'd left empty, a hand clasping hers and the other sliding to rest at her waist. "Just a waltz again?"

"Yeah, it looks elegant even without adding much to the basic steps, so it should be ok for everyone to try, if they want to." Back, left-together, back, right-together, back, left... They continue, Dorothea lightly tapping the fingers of the hand on his shoulder at times. "Dancing's nice sometimes, gotta take the opportunities when I can, right?"

He scoffs. "I doubt you'd have a difficult time finding a partner were you to ask."

She wrinkles her nose. "But they wouldn't be honest with me, or would only agree because of my looks and my voice and then want something from me for it. No thanks. I'd rather just ask friends sometimes." She smooths her face into a smile, eyes closing into crescents. "This is enough, isn't it?"

He smiles softly. "I suppose. Well, if you want to dance and I'm free, I'd be happy to be your partner. But, we can't ignore our other responsibilities for it."

Dorothea beams at him. "Of course! I _am_ here on a scholarship you know, falling behind in my classes is the last thing that I'd want. Thanks for the offer Ferdie, I'll take you up on it sometime." She lifts her hand from his shoulder to push her hair back over her shoulders. "Let me know if there's anything you'd like like that too, okay?"

He nods, and they keep dancing for a while, stepping in time with each other and gliding in curves about the room, Dorothea's skirts swishing with them as they go. The movements themselves are something they've known for years, one of the first things Dorothea had learned when she'd been accepted into the performance program years ago, something Ferdinand was taught as a child due to the circles his family liked to take part in. Moving together was easy like this, gentle pressure from the points they're connected conveying where they're going to go.

After a few more circuits of the room, Dorothea pulls away and claps her hands, walking back over to the table where the drinks lay. "Alright, I think that's enough for now. What's the part of the performance you think is weakest right now? Might as well start looking while we wait for the others to return." She picks up a cup and drinks from it, leaning lightly against the table.

Ferdinand taps his chin, coming to stand by her and drink some of his own drink. "Maybe around E? I think the time is still off when we're all coming back in and..."

-

Edelgard packs up her things, raising a hand in a wave at the small red-haired librarian as she heads down the stairs and slips out the doors, shivering as the cold air of outside hits her skin. Her breath fogs in small clouds before her, and she pulls out a scarf, grumbling to herself. "Should've guessed it'd be cold enough to want it and put it on while I was inside..." She fixes the scarf around her neck, pulling her hair free so the scarf was around her neck instead of also trapping her hair. It may be a little colder this way, but at least she won't have the sensation of choking. She slings her bag back over her shoulder and pulls her coat closed, hands stuffed in her pockets.

"Didn't think it was supposed to get this cold today... Should've brought my gloves." She shakes her head, pale hair and paler ribbons shifting with the movement. "Heheh, guess I shouldn't have trusted the weather report about that, even though they _have_ been right in the past."

She starts her way down the sidewalk, watching for ice and slick as she goes. It's nice that the library, café, university, and her apartment complex are all so close together. Walking between them was almost faster than trying to drive or catch transit, and the café was close enough that she could easily just pop over for refreshments like she had earlier. They were good about leaving customers alone unless they'd come up to the center station to order or ask something.

It doesn't take long, though the cold makes it feel much longer, for her to see her apartment complex.

There's a woman outside it, dark hair pulled behind her, a beanie covering her ears, a scarf bundled around her face, cardigan over a simple shirt and a short skirt with leggings underneath, and soft boots that look warm, warmer than almost everything else really, calling out to everyone within easy hearing. "Hey, got a minute? Have you seen this cat?" Her voice is calm, but she's shifting from foot to foot as she calls out, showing her phone to all who come closer, just as Edelgard does, pale face slightly red from the cold, green eyes bright.

The screen shows a soft looking solid gray cat with light blue eyes, curling a paw up toward the camera.

Edelgard frowns, shaking her head. "I'm afraid not. She's missing?"

The woman nods, tapping the screen with her ungloved hand so it won't go dark. "Yeah, I got back to my room after rehearsal and she wasn't there, my roommate hasn't seen her in a while and she's almost _always_ there so I'm scared that she got out and is lost and it's _cold_ , and you know how cats can be with cars when it's cold so-"

"Hey-- Hey! Slow down and breathe. Are you sure that she left the building? Maybe she's still inside, just not in your rooms anymore. I can't imagine a cat willingly leaving for long in this weather, so let's check back inside first, okay?" Words leave her in a rush, trying to stem the other woman's frantic talk. "We can print out a picture of her just in case and put it up here while we look so people passing by can still check. I'm sure if we make it big enough they'll stop and look even without you out here calling." Edelgard's hands came up to soothe the other woman before her thoughts caught up with her body, seeking to curb the panic that's building. "Or, if your roommate is free, we could ask them to be out here calling while we search inside where it's warmer, ok?" Cats _do_ choose to leave sometimes, but she doubts that this was one of those times.

"If we look inside and still don't find her, we can come back out and search out here again, but we should check inside first. This is also your building, right?" It would be much more complicated if she'd wandered away from her own complex in her search for her cat, but _hopefully_ this was the other woman's home as well.

The woman nods slowly, placing her phone in her cardigan pocket and taking an even measured breath. "Okay. Searching inside for her and _then_ coming back out if we need to. Byleth _is_ pretty friendly, so maybe she decided to say hi to someone else and followed them around for a bit."

"Her name's Byleth?" The other woman nods. "Does she respond to it at all? I mean, I know cats don't always, but if she does, that'd help." She shoos her towards the door, following her into the lobby of the complex.

"Sometimes she'll meow when we call her, and she has come over a couple of times too. Usually she's napping or curled up and won't respond though." They walk across the lobby to the elevators, the other woman pushing the up button. "I'm on the fifth floor so..."

"Ah, but calling for her might help then, since she has responded before." Edelgard nods, watching the elevator doors. "Hopefully she'll choose to respond this time. I'm on the same floor, actually. My roommate should be getting back soon if he isn't already here since his shift ended at work; we could ask him for help as well if we need to." Linhardt is pretty sleepy most of the time so she's not absolutely sure he'd agree, but they could do a trade if the fact that he likes cats isn't enough to convince him to help before he sleeps.

"Really? Maybe that's why you look a little familiar... thanks for helping me out with this. I know you could've just come inside instead."

They get into the elevator, empty except for them, pushing the button to go to their floor. "You looked cold." Edelgard crosses her arms, leaning against the side of the elevator, looking to the ground rather than at the other woman. "I've been to your most recent concerts too, since Ferdinand gave me a ticket to the one at the start of the year. I don't think its easy to see faces on stage though." She smiles softly. "Dorothea, right? Let's find Byleth."

The other woman - Dorothea - blinks in shock, and then laughs, fingers catching in her hair. "You're Ferdie's friend? I did think it a little strange for a stranger to want to help, but you're a fan, aren't you?"

"I don't have to be a fan to want to help someone find their cat!" But she's blushing, avoiding Dorothea's eyes, exiting the elevator as it comes to a stop on their floor. "Which one's yours? Maybe she came back and is waiting outside."

"Oh? Aren't we going to see if your roommate is back?" There's a smile in her voice as she follows her out, laughter half on the words. "Ferdie was getting tickets for... Edelgard, right? You don't look like a Hubert and that's who else he talks about. Childhood friends?"

"Something like that. We grew up close together and our parents liked to attend the same functions and drag us along, Hubert as well." Edelgard props a hand on a hip, "I mean... yes, we can see if Linhardt's back first. Who knows, maybe Byleth decided he knew a good place to nap and is napping with him, if she isn't outside your door." Edelgard turns on a heel, walking down the hallway without looking back at Dorothea. "This way."

Dorothea claps, following behind her. "Oh, so you're also Lin's roommate? Small world, huh Edie."

Edelgard stumbles. "Edie?"

"A nickname for you! Do you like it?" She takes long strides to catch up, leaning down to get a look at Edelgard's face. "Usually I'd wait longer before giving one, but Ferdie talks about you all the time, and if you're his friend _and_ Lin's roommate you can't be bad. Did you really get a dagger as a gift one time?"

"Huh? Y-yeah. I think I've still got the dagger. I...don't mind the nickname." It's not El, at least. That would have hurt being called without permission. It's been a while since she's been able - allowed to see her siblings. Dimitri as well, though sometimes she sees him in the distance on campus.

"Edie it is then~."

They round the corner of the hall, and Edelgard stops, sighing. There's a man laying on one of the barely padded benches in the hall, his hair coming out of the partial bun that it sits in low on his head. There's a gray ball of fluff curled up on his chest, also snoozing.

"...Well, he's back. That wouldn't happen to be Byleth, would it?"

Dorothea rushes forward, careful not to make any loud sounds as she comes closer. She sighs with relief, looking at the two of them. "Yep, that's her. Thanks for getting me to come back inside, I'd have hated it if I couldn't find her and she'd been up here with Lin and you the entire time I'd've been looking for her outside."

Edelgard shakes her head. "I'm just glad we found her and she's alright." She huffs a little laugh. "And apparently she decided that Linhardt would be a good bed for the moment. Maybe because he's just as willing to nap?"

Dorothea giggles, covering her mouth with one hand and reaching out to gently scritch Byleth's chin and check her soft green collar. "Kindred spirits?"

"Sometimes I think he'd have been happier to be born a cat." Edelgard crosses her arms, looking at them, eyes soft at Dorothea kneeling next to the bench, gently scritching her cat that's laying on Linhardt. "...so, are you going to wake them or-" she shifts her feet, looking at her roommate rather than Dorothea, pale blush on her cheeks "would you like to come in for tea?"

"Mm...if you leave the door open so we know when they wake, sure!" Dorothea smiles at her, still scritching her cat lightly. Byleth hasn't so much as twitched, but it looks like she might be purring in that ball. "Ferdie's told me a lot about you, and you seem to have excellent taste." She winks, rising to her feet. "What kinds've you got?"

Edelgard unlocks and opens her door, taking off her shoes and propping them in the doorway to keep it open, walking further into the apartment when Dorothea moves to follow. "A lot of loose leaf, and more bagged tea. He brings home tea from the café sometimes so we might have what you get there, if that's what you'd like." She moves into the kitchen, grabbing the stool to reach the higher shelves in the cabinet they keep their teas in. "It's getting late so probably herbal or white tea..."

"I think that depends on the white tea, they can have as much caffeine as green or black teas. Apparently it's got to do with the kind of tea plant and exactly how long they process it and how?" Dorothea shrugs at Edelgard's curious glance. "Lorenz and Ferdinand like to talk about tea."

"I didn't know. Well, we do have plenty of herbal and fruit teas and they at least should have less caffeine, so we can hopefully still manage to get to sleep tonight at a reasonable time. Looks like I've got... orange blossom with youthberry and an apple blend, which would you like?" She grabs the two closest containers, turning on the stool to extend the small jars to show Dorothea.

Dorothea hums, "I like apples, but the orange blossom one sounds like it'd be nice. So let's try that. Is there anything I can do to help?"

Edelgard blinks at her, but points to the cabinet next to the sink. "Pick out two mugs. There are a few that are specifically mine or his, but most of them are shared. Just don't grab the Shakespearean insults mug and you'll be fine."

"Now you've made me curious..." But she goes over to choose, pulling out a white mug with a black cat on it for herself and one with various sushi labeled on it for Edelgard. "Is there a story there?"

"Linhardt got it as a gift a while ago, it's one of the mugs that is his in particular instead of shared between us." She hops off the stool, opening a drawer to pull out two spoons and two tea steepers, placing the jar of tea on the counter. She fills the electric kettle, turning it on and looks back at Dorothea. "You can take a seat if you'd like. It'll be a little while before the water's ready."

Dorothea does, leaning against the tabletop as she watches Edelgard move around the kitchen. "So...thanks for helping me find Byleth and offering me tea. It's sweet of you."

"I'm happy to help. Honey or sugar?"

"Sugar, if I think it needs it."

Edelgard nods, retrieving the sugar for tea from a cabinet and placing it on the table in front of Dorothea with the mugs, steepers with tea already inside them, and the spoons. She pours the water when it's ready and they wait a little for the tea to steep, Edelgard having set a timer so they wouldn't oversteep them on accident.

They're chatting - about music and tea and what Ferdinand has told Dorothea about Edelgard and teachers and classes and all sorts of things, for quite a while, stopping when Byleth mrows and wanders her way in, brushing up against Dorothea's legs and settling there to lick her paws. The two of them stare at the cat, and laugh, hands close together on the table.

"I should be going. Thanks for the tea and conversation, Edie. Catch you around?" Dorothea pushes herself to her feet, bending to give Byleth a little scritch before picking the cat up.

Edelgard nods, standing. "Yes, wouldn't want Bernadetta to get worried about the two of you as well. It was my pleasure and...if you wouldn't mind, we could do it again sometime? Maybe at the café instead of in my apartment, or elsewhere in the city."

"Bernie's probably already worried...and I'd like that. Thanks for being interested in me as a person instead of just me as the songstress."

She smiles. "Always. I truly think this is the least I could have done."

Dorothea brushes a kiss against her cheek and heads out the door, turning in the doorway to smile at her another time, holding one of Byleth's paws in a little wave. "See you around, Edie."

Edelgard stares after her, hand to her cheek, until Linhardt pokes his head in the door, yawning. "Why's the door open?"

"Just- come inside."

**Author's Note:**

> [you scream and then they kiss]
> 
> wonderful advice on trying to write romance by sibling in a convo w sibling and roommate. that i misheard as [they scream, and then they kiss] at first. thanks. very helpful. love that.
> 
> i've only finished black eagles and i'm Part of the way through blue lions whenever i have energy to play 3h again but,,, important
> 
> other notes are mercie and annette are girlfriends, mercie bakes for the cafe w raphael, sometimes lysithea successfully persuades them to let her try as well. annette and claude work at the library


End file.
